Guardian
by R. Franke
Summary: "Uncle Bill, what was my father like? You talk about my mother sometimes, but you hardly ever mention him."
1. Uncle Bill, what was my father like? You...

TITLE: Guardian (Part 1 of ?)

AUTHOR: R. Franke

E-MAIL: [RFrankeUS@yahoo.com][1]

RATING: PG-13

CLASSIFICATION: MSR, Bill Scully POV

SPOILERS: Through Roadrunners, and my stories The Letter and Wedding Toast. Not a series, just a shared universe.

SUMMARY: "Uncle Bill, what was my father like? You talk about my mother sometimes, but you hardly ever mention him."

DISCLAIMER: Scully, Mulder, et al. are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, the Fox Network, the actors, writers, and all other persons known or unknown with a legal claim on the characters. All characters unique to this story are the property of R. Franke. This is a story of fan fiction, written for the purpose of personal satisfaction and the enjoyment of others, and monetary or other compensation is neither expected nor desired.

ARCHIVE: Permission is given to archive this story, provided it is archived without alteration, including this disclaimer and copyright notice, and the author is contacted at [RFrankeUS@yahoo.com][1]

COPYRIGHT 2001 by R. Franke

****

GUARDIAN

Part I

"Uncle Bill, what was my father like?"

I look at my niece, her brilliant blue eyes focused on her bedspread as I reach out and tuck a stray lock of chestnut hair behind her ear. "What do you remember about him?"

"I'm not sure if I remember anything," she whispers, one hand plucking nervously at her nightgown. "You talk about my mother sometimes, but you hardly ever mention him."

I smile slightly. "The first time we ever met I called him a sorry somebody."

I can see her chin tremble. "You didn't like him?"

"Of course not, he liked the Yankees." I take her chin in my hand and tilt her face up. "I won't lie to you and say your father and I were ever best buddies, but he was a good man. He loved you, and he loved your mother."

"I can see them," she says suddenly. I raise my eyebrow in silent inquiry. "I-in my mind. I can see them. They're looking up at me. And it's like I can feel Daddy's hands around me as he holds me up. And he's laughing and smiling, and Mommy's smiling too and she's saying something, but I can't understand her." Her chin starts to tremble again. "Why can't I understand her?"

"You may not have been able to understand her then."

"What do you mean?"

"You were pretty young when they died."

"Were killed, Uncle Bill," she reminds me, her voice solemn. "And we had to start hiding."

I blink at the reminder. Five years. Five years since my sister and her husband were gunned down in front of their only child. Five years since I had been Bill Scully. "Yeah," I say, my voice hoarse. "Were killed."

"I'm going to find them, Uncle Bill," she tells me. "I am going to find them and expose them, just like my parents wanted."

"That's going to take a lot of work," I reply.

"I know."

I force a smidgen of lightness into my tone. "And right now, young lady, your job is to go to sleep."

She smiles and scoots under her covers. "'Kay, Uncle Bill. Love you." She holds out her arms imperiously.

"Love you too, sweetheart." I bestow the goodnight kiss she demands and tuck the covers firmly up under her chin. "Think about them smiling at you," I order. "Remember that."

"What is it?" Tara asks as I enter the main room.

I sigh as I settle beside her. "She was asking about her father."

"Oh." We both stare at the flames crackling in the fireplace.

I break the silence. "She plans on exposing them."

"That's too dangerous," Tara snaps. "We're safe now."

"If we were safe," I reply calmly, "we'd be Bill and Tara Scully right now, not Bill and Teri Sprague."

"I know." 

We continue to stare at the fire as memories unspool in my head, scenes painted in the flames.

We're at the Maryland World War II memorial. It's a beautiful site, on a bluff across the Severn River overlooking the Naval Academy and the city beyond. Dana had taken me there to show me the names carved in the simple black granite slabs. George M. Scully. John H. Scully. Thomas F. Scully. Our grandfather's youngest brother, and two of his cousins.

ComSubPac had kicked my case straight upstairs to the Navy JAG and the SecNav, and two hours after I had turned myself in to him I was on a direct military flight to Washington. The SecNav had slapped a gag order on me and told me to stay available, so I did what anyone else in my situation would do. I went to see my family. I wanted to remember how they looked without bars between us.

I was thinking about how the Scullys had believed Mr. Roosevelt's promises of a better life and come up out of the Appalachian coalmines when Dana's cell phone rang. "Scully," she answered crisply, moving outside the ring of slabs. "I'm showing Bill the memorial," she had continued in a noticeably softer tone, "I think it'll help." I could hear the smile in her voice as she said, "you too, Mulder," and cut the connection.

"How long?" I asked as she stepped back into the memorial.

"How long, what?" she replied evenly.

"You and Mulder. How long?"

"Bill, we've been partners for-"

"Dana," I interrupted her, trying for the look our father always gave us when we had done something wrong. It seemed to work on the young men under my command, but I doubted I could pull it off on someone that had been exposed to the real thing. "Just because you're the smart one in the family, doesn't mean the rest of us are stupid."

She had blushed and looked away, then turned back and looked me square in the eye. "Just recently." Her eyes, her stance, had been both plea and challenge.

"Jesus, Dana, I-" I ran my fingers through my hair. I don't know what stopped me from exploding the way I usually did. Maybe it was the quasi-sacred air of the memorial. Or maybe it was my own precarious situation as I waited for the Navy to decide my fate. Whatever the reason, I just sighed and said. "Just be careful, Dana. Please?"

Her jaw had actually dropped at that, but she recovered quickly and smiled at me. "I will." She laid her hand on my arm. "He's a good man, Bill."

"That's what you said about that Ethan character," I replied as we headed back to her car. "And let's not even mention Daniel."

One corner of her mouth crooked up in a small smile. "All right, I admit it, you were right. He was an obnoxious jerk." An eyebrow rose. "But if we're going to talk about Daniel, shouldn't we talk about Lisa as well?"

I smiled faintly in reply. "We've both made some mistakes, haven't we?"

"Yes, we have." She stood, one hand on the driver's door and looked at me over the car roof. "Bill, I know how much Missy's death affected you, but promise me you'll give Mulder a chance, take the time to get to know him."

"One chance," I replied as I opened my door. "Have you talked to Charlie lately?"

"I talked to him the other day," Dana replied, putting the car in gear and pulling out of the parking space. "He's put down a deposit on a place in Columbia."

"Good. I was starting to think he'd decided to go native after the divorce." Dana made a little noise of amused agreement as I continued. "Can't say as I miss her, or those little monsters of hers."

"They weren't that bad, Bill."

"Aunt Olive's dentures, Mom's Waterford crystal, Uncle Pat's ashes-"

"No, you're right," Dana interrupted. "They were a couple of little monsters."

"Prepare to surface," Commander Petersen ordered. The helmsman looked over at him with a questioning look.

"Sir-" I began.

Petersen whirled on me. "Are you questioning my orders again, Lieutenant Commander Scully?"

"You should have, you know. Sir." Chief Mendoza commented from behind me. I turned to see his pale, water-bloated face regarding me calmly. Other forms, other faces gathered in the water behind him, around him. Around me. "Questioned. Maybe if you had, then," he shrugged.

"I-I wasn't, I wasn't- I thought, I had to be wrong, it would have been mutiny," I babbled as the _Selby _rose and struck the keel of the Chinese destroyer.

"You know what I miss, Sir?" Thornton said. "Meatloaf. My mom used to make the best-"

"What about my little boy, sir?" Newman thrust the picture of his newborn son at me. "How's he going to grow up without his daddy?"

"I did everything I could," I protested as they surrounded me, their voices overlapping as they drew me deeper and deeper, my lungs aching until my mouth opened, the water flooded in and I woke up gasping, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets to find my wife leaning over me. "T-Tara?"

"Shh," she soothed me. "It was a dream. That's all. It's not real. Just a dream."

Commander Petersen nodded as I sat down on the bench beside him. "So," he greeted me. "It never happened."

"No sir," I replied. "It didn't."

"And nineteen good men are dead in a, what was the phrase the SecNav used? An unfortunate accident." His voice was bitter as he stared out over the Reflecting Pool. "And all because of me."

I shook my head. "You were injured, sir. You weren't thinking clearly. I knew something was wrong. So did Arboit. I should have acted sooner."

My former captain turned to me with a sardonic smile. "The only thing that would have accomplished, Bill, would be to put you in front of a court-martial with only the snap diagnosis of a corpsman as your defense. If we had survived at all."

"I should have been," I replied.

Petersen snorted. "We both should. But then everything would come out, and nobody wants that. Not even the Chinese." He looked out over the Reflecting Pool again. "Goddamned politicians."

"What are you going to do now?" I asked finally.

"Molly and I have some property near Lafayette. We've always thought Louisiana would be a nice place to retire to." He smiled slightly at the expression on my face. "It's not like they'd ever let me have a command again, Bill."

"I know, it's just-"

He stopped me with a wave of his hand. "It's not what I expected either. But I'd rather go now, then after ten years of unimportant postings where I can't do any harm." He looked down at his hands, then up at me. "What about you?"

"I'm staying. It's not like I know anything else." I turned my gaze to the Reflecting Pool. "My promotion has been delayed for administrative review."

"For how long?" I shrugged silently in reply. "Those sons of bitches. And the _Parrish_? Who'll command her, if you're still an LC?"

"I guess whoever's next on the list. In the meantime they're sticking me in a shore billet."

"Have you been told where yet?"

"No." I let out my breath with a huff. "God damn politics." 

I hadn't let anything stop me from exploding when Dana told us Mulder had disappeared, leaving her pregnant. I was still fuming when she walked out the door. "Aliens? Little green men from Mars?"

"Bill-" Mom had begun, but I was still on a roll.

"That son of a bitch. He got what he wanted from her then instead of doing the right thing and taking responsibility he went back to chasing his damn lights in the sky." I turned to Charlie. "I can't believe I let you talk me into inviting him to Hatteras." Four days fishing off Cape Hatteras was a tradition for the Scully men. The only outsiders we had ever invited were Tara's father, her brother, and Charlie's two brothers-in-law from his short-lived marriage. 

"Hey, I'm not exactly overjoyed he turned out to be such a putz myself," Charlie replied. "Hell, I liked the guy. And Dane seemed pretty happy."

I shook my head. "That lousy, no-good, good for nothing bas-"

"William Francis Scully, Jr.," Mom snapped then. I knew that tone, that voice that still saw me, and worse yet, made me see myself, as a disobedient little boy. "Fox Mulder may have his faults, and God only knows he's not what I'd consider an ideal partner for Dana, in any sense of the word, but he does care for her. He always has, and the idea that he would just leave her like this-" She shook her head. "Whatever happened to him, it wasn't by his choice."

"But, abducted by UFOs? I mean, come on."

"Oh, I don't believe for one minute flying saucers had anything to do with it. It's more than likely he's dead and they just haven't found the body yet. But right now your sister is facing the reality of being an unwed mother, and if you think there is anything more frightening than that," Mom paused and took a deep breath. "If believing aliens took Fox is what Dana needs to help her deal with-"

"Dana," Charlie said. Mom and I turned to see Dana standing in the doorway.

"I left my keys," she said, scooping them off the table by the door.

"Dana, honey, I-" Mom began.

"Like mother, like daughter, huh Mom? It's a damn good thing Dad got back when he did." She smiled tightly. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised you think he's dead. After all, it didn't take long before you were buying my tombstone." I heard Mom draw in her breath in shock and anger at Dana's words. "They're gray, not green," she had continued coldly. "And from somewhere a hell of a lot farther away than Mars." Dana turned on her heel, then stopped. Facing the door, she continued "I have seen things, things that I cannot explain, things that make me wonder if goodness and justice and mercy are nothing more than lies we tell ourselves to stave off the terror of reality." She turned back to face us, eyes blazing, fists clenched tight and trembling. "But whatever the truth is, I will fight them, by Mulder's side if I can, alone if I have to, but I will fight them, and damn you to Hell with my last breath." She left then, slamming the door behind her so hard one of Mom's paintings fell off the wall. It would be over a month before I saw her again.

"Good evening, sir," the two midshipmen chorused.

"Good evening, Ms. al-Rashid, Mr. Dutton." I nodded as we passed on the street. I was out of uniform, so the two had properly not saluted. "Oh, Ms. al-Rashid?" I called, turning back to face them.

The two turned to face me. "Sir?" she asked.

"That was an inventive solution to the exercise this morning. Not exactly standard tactics."

She stiffened. "Sir, yes, sir. No excuse, sir." Beside her, Dutton stiffened as well.

I smiled slightly, shifting the bag of groceries to a more comfortable position. "That wasn't a reprimand, Ms. al-Rashid. At ease, the both of you." The two of them relaxed slightly, eyeing me warily. "Mr. Dutton, am I right in assuming the diversionary attack on the supply ship was your doing?"

"Sir, yes, sir."

"I have one question for the two of you. How would each of you have countered the other's actions, if you were in the opposing force?"

"Sir, we would-" al-Rashid stopped as I held up my hand. 

"I will expect a complete analysis of the exercise, your tactics, all possible counters to those tactics, and all possible counters to those counter-tactics on my desk at the start of class Monday. And I expect separate, independent reports from each of you. Be prepared to defend your analyses. Have a pleasant weekend, Ms. al-Rashid, Mr. Dutton." I nodded and turned quickly before they could see the smile that threatened to break out on my face. I imagined they had the same murderous thoughts towards me that I'd had towards my Tactics instructor whenever he decided to single me out for extra work. Truth was, with al-Rashid's penchant for coming up with off-beat solutions to tactical problems that logically shouldn't have worked, but somehow did, and Dutton's unerring instinct for the weak points of an enemy's defense, they were two of my finest students, and would make fine officers as long as they didn't become overconfident.

I was still smiling slightly as I opened the front door of our townhouse. "Hey, beautiful."

Tara looked up at me. "Hey."

I bent over and gave her a quick kiss. "How was work?"

"Six car pileup at the 50/97 interchange," she answered, following me into the kitchen. "Some idiot tried to get to the exit from the hammer lane. EMT's said he walked away with barely a scratch."

I looked over at her. Tara loves her work, always has. My share of Grandfather O'Hanrahan's legacy and the portfolio my flaky twin set up for me meant we could afford for her to take some time off when Matthew was born, but once he was old enough to safely leave with a sitter, she went back to work. Fortunately for our peripatetic lifestyle, a good ER nurse is always in demand. "I take it someone else didn't?" I asked quietly, handing her a beer.

She took it and drank half the bottle before she replied. "Yeah. Some kid. Sixteen, seventeen. Eighteen at most. Pregnant. We lost her on the table. The child wasn't far enough along to be viable." She slammed the bottle down on the counter. "Fuck."

"You want me to go get Matthew?"

She smiled and shook her head, handing me the beer. "No, I've got some other errands I need to run. The fish is all ready, just stick it in the oven. Broil for twenty, then check. You know how to do rice. I should be back around seven or so." She leaned over and kissed me. "Salad and wine are your department, sailor boy," she called as she grabbed her coat and headed out the door. I turned on the radio and sang along while I put the rest of the groceries away and finished preparing dinner.

"Door's open," I yelled when I heard the knock.

The knob rattled and I heard Charlie faintly yell, "Guess again, big brother." I wiped my hands on a dishtowel and headed down the hallway.

When I opened the door Dana was standing there beside him. I looked at Charlie as she shoved past me into the hall. "We've already talked with Mom," he said quietly. "Figured I'd better get you two talking too."

"This was his idea, not mine," Dana spoke up. "I doubt you and I have much to talk about."

"Dana, you promised," Charlie said.

"Playing peacemaker again, Charlie?" I asked. He nodded slightly. Mom usually smoothed things over whenever we had a family fight, but Charlie would pinch-hit for her occasionally. "Tara should be back with Matthew in a bit."

"Actually, I called earlier," Charlie replied. "Asked her to give the three of us a little time alone."

I raised my eyebrow. "The usual?" I asked as we went into the living room. Charlie nodded, and I turned to Dana. "Ginger ale?"

Her eyebrow went up. "Good guess."

"It seemed to help Tara when she was, when she was," I stopped and gestured vaguely towards her stomach. The slight bulge that was there the last time I had seen her had grown. There was no mistaking her condition now.

She smiled mirthlessly. "The word, Bill, is pregnant. I am pregnant with Fox Mulder's child. And whatever happens, I won't regret that. Not my child, and most especially not the father of my child."

"Jesus Christ, how the hell can you still defend that asshole?"

"I love him."

"And that means you alienate yourself from your family, you speak to Mom like that? What the hell kind of love is that, Dana? Answer me that."

She looked down, biting her lip. "You're right, I shouldn't have said what I did to Mom-"

"You're damn right you shouldn't have." I interrupted harshly.

"Bill-" Charlie started.

Dana glared up at me. "But it's not like you've ever been supportive of me, of the choices I've made."

"Well, gee, Dana, that got kind of difficult when you kept changing your mind all the time. Oh, I want to be a marine biologist. I mean a physicist. No wait, a doctor. No, no, not a doctor, a pathologist. Oh wait, an FBI agent, and I really, really mean it this time," I mimicked savagely. "What's next, Dana? Ballerina? Fairy Princess? You're nothing but a damn dilettante. You have no idea of what Mom and Dad had to give up so you could get those fucking diplomas you're so proud of."

"The hell I don't," Dana shot back. "But I guess you never had to wonder what you'd do with your life, did you? You've always had it so fucking easy. You just did what Dad wanted you to do and never even bothered thinking for yourself." She smiled scornfully. "Of the two of you, it seems like Missy got the balls."

"I worked my ass off to get into the Academy because I wanted to, and I am damn good at what I do," I growled. "Not because of what Dad wanted, or Missy, or anyone else. Especially you." I leaned forward, my voice low and shaking with rage. "This discussion is over."

"Like hell it is," Dana growled back through clenched teeth. "This is my fucking life, and if you can't accept that-"

"Can't accept? Can't accept? What the hell does that mean? If accepting means finding out, sometimes months later, that your fucking life means you've landed in the goddamned hospital again, and just saying 'Oh well, that's her job', then hell no I don't accept your fucking life." I practically spat the last words out at Dana.

"I knew how dangerous the FBI could be when I joined," Dana replied heatedly. "The same way you goddamn well knew when you decided to make fucking attack subs your goddamn life. Just who the hell do you think you are?"

"I'm your goddamn brother."

"My brother. Not my fucking keeper."

"You need one, cause its for damn sure-"

"Enough!" We both jumped as Charlie slammed his hands down on the coffee table. "From both of you. That's enough."

"Like hell it is," I growled.

Dana sighed, and her shoulders slumped. "Billy, I know I've chosen a dangerous profession. I know the risks, but I cannot just turn away and hope somebody else will do what has to be done."

I felt my own shoulders sag slightly. "That doesn't mean you have to jump up and down shouting 'Here I am, come get me' all the time either," I replied softly.

I smiled as Charlie wiped his brow in exaggerated relief. Dana laughed. "And playing hide and seek with a Chinese antisubmarine squadron is playing it safe?"

"What?" Charlie looked at me.

I stiffened. "That's top secret information, Dana. How do you know about it?"

"Shit." Dana looked down guiltily. "I ah, I have some friends, sources, that kind of, um, keep track of things for me, sort of, in ways that most people can't."

"Things?" I asked. "What kind of things?"

Dana took a deep breath. "The two of you. Mom. Tara and Matthew. When nobody could raise the _Selby_, and then later when your name started burning up the wires between D.C. and Pearl, well," she held up her hand as her cell phone rang. "Scully." Her eyes widened. "What? Where? If you're lying to- Damn." She hung up and turned to Charlie. "I need your keys."

"Dana-" Charlie began.

"There's a John Doe at Shock-Trauma. It's Mulder. Give me the damn keys."

"You can't be sure," I interjected. "You-"

Dana shook her head. "It's him. I know." She turned back to Charlie. "Keys. Now."

"I'm driving," Charlie replied.

"Fine, whatever, let's go," Dana demanded.

I scribbled a quick note to Tara and grabbed my coat, slamming the door behind us. 

Dana burst through the door of the emergency room holding her identification in front of her like a weapon. "Federal agent," she barked as Charlie and I scrambled in her wake. "You have a John Doe, male, six-foot, brown hair, about forty years old. Where is he?"

The admitting nurse looked up calmly. "I believe he's still in surgery, Agent-?"

"Scully," Dana replied, tapping her fingers impatiently. "Doctor Scully. Where?"

"If you would like I can send- Doctor Scully, you can't go in there!"

Dana had whirled away and headed for the hallway leading to the operating rooms. A security guard, some kid who looked like he wasn't even old enough to shave yet, moved to stop her. She held up her badge. "That man in there is a missing federal agent. Move. Now."

The guard's eyes swiveled to us. Charlie and I exchanged looks, then he silently held up his State Department ID. I held up my Naval ID. 

The kid swallowed, his prominent Adam's apple betraying his nervousness. We hadn't done this since we were kids, the Scully gang marching into a new school, on a new base, just daring someone, anyone to try something. The kid's eyes slid down and away as he stepped aside.

Charlie handed him a business card as Dana stalked forward. "Your bosses give you any trouble, tell them to give me a call." I could almost see Melissa patting his cheek in gentle sympathy as we walked by.

We caught up with Dana when she stopped and looked in a window. I could just see Mulder's face, bruised and crusted with dried blood as the doctors worked on his body. "Mulder," Dana murmured brokenly, pressing her fingers up against the glass. "Please God."

"Jesus," Charlie drew in his breath with a sharp hiss. "What is he-"

"Internal cardiac massage," Dana replied, her voice a flat monotone. One of the nurses moved and I could see Mulder's upper body and the surgeon with his hand inside Mulder's chest. I recognized the heart monitor, and the flat green line running across it.

"Why aren't they using those paddle things?" Charlie asked.

"He's on a backboard," I replied. Charlie looked over at me. "Spinal injuries."

"Possible spinal injuries," Dana replied. She gave a gasp as the line on the heart monitor jumped, then a steady series of spikes marched across the screen. She pulled out her cell phone, punched a long series of numbers into it and held it out to me, eyes never leaving Mulder's form. "You'll need to go outside. Hit send, that'll connect you to the Gunmen. Tell them who you are, tell the guys to turn off the damn tape, tell them," she choked back a sob, "tell them we've found Mulder." I took the phone from her. "Seven is AD Skinner's cell," she continued, "tell him, tell him," her voice trailed off.

"I've got it, Dana," I replied softly.

Charlie nodded at me and slipped his arm around Dana's shoulders. "Mulder's a tough guy, Dana," I heard him murmur as I walked away. "He'll make it."

"You better make it, Mulder," I muttered as I went back outside. "I swear I'll kill you if you hurt her again. You got that, you son of a bitch? You die, I'll kill you." I took a deep breath, pressed send and held the phone up to my ear.

I heard a computerized voice start. "Thank you for calling the offices of the Lone Gunmen, publishers of the Magic Bullet and-"

"Turn off the damn tape." 

The computer voice clicked off, to be replaced by a suspicious human. "Who are you, how did you get this number, and what are you doing with Agent Scully's cell?"

"Bill Scully," I answered shortly. "Dana told me to call you."

"My God, it's him, isn't it?" the voice at the other end of the phone demanded. "It's Mulder. That report- You're at Shock-Trauma, right?"

"Right, how did you-"

"We picked it up on the scanner. Byers is on his way there now to check it out. Tell Scully Langley and I are on our way." I could hear somebody scrambling in the background as he slammed the phone down. I pressed seven and brought the phone back up to my ear.

"Skinner," a gruff voice answered.

"This is Bill Scully," I began.

"What's wrong?" Skinner interrupted. "Agent Scully, is she-"

"Dana's fine, Mr. Skinner," I broke in hastily. "It's Mulder. He's back."

Skinner was silent for a moment. "Where are you?"

"Baltimore," I replied. "University Hospital."

"I'm on my way." Skinner hung up.

I dialed my house. "It's me."

"I got your note. Is it him?"

"Yeah, he's in surgery. Looks pretty bad. They've got him on a backboard, and they had to do an internal heart massage."

"Jesus," Tara breathed. "Is Dana with you?"

"She's with Charlie," I replied. "I couldn't use her phone in the hospital."

"Right. Tell Dana to hang on. I'll get Mrs. MacLeod to watch Matthew."

"Love you, sweetheart. For everything."

"Love you, too," she repeated. "See you soon."

I dialed Mom's number. "Mom, it's Bill."

"What's wrong?"

"Mulder's been found. Mom, it doesn't look good."

"Where's Dana?"

"We're at University Hospital here in Baltimore," I answered. "Charlie's with her now. Mulder's still in surgery."

"Tell Dana I'm on my way." Mom ordered. "Go help your sister. Take care of her."

"Yes ma'am," I replied. I hung up and went back inside.

A slender man, clad in a gray three-piece suit stood at the admitting desk. "I'm looking for a John Doe that was brought in tonight, white male, brown hair-"

"Are you Byers?" I asked.

He turned and took a step back when he saw me. "Commander Scully? What-" His eyes widened. "It's him, isn't it? It's Mulder. John Byers." He held out his hand automatically.

I shook it perfunctorily. "Bill Scully. But you knew that. And yes, it's him." I nodded to the security guard as we walked through the door. "You're one of Dana's friends, aren't you?"

Later, we sat in the lounge outside the ICU, Tara and Charlie and I on one side of the room and the men who called themselves the Lone Gunmen on the other. AD Skinner sat off a little by himself. Dana and Mom were in Mulder's room. He'd come through the surgery okay, now the only question was when, and if, he'd ever wake up.

"You're the nurse, Tara," Charlie said softly. "Tell me Mulder's in that bad a shape because of an accident."

Tara shook her head. "I can't. If all the wounds were the same age I'd say yes. But he's got fresh bruises, bruises at least a week old, some two weeks old, or more, chemical and electrical burns, cuts and lacerations, all in various stages of healing. Either Mulder's been in an incredibly unlikely series of accidents, or…" her voice trailed off.

"Or somebody did this to him," I finished. I glanced over at the Gunmen. "I don't know about those guys."

"Dana trusts them," Charlie replied quietly.

"Sir?" I looked up to see a man in a rumpled suit standing in the doorway.

"What is it, Agent Doggett?" Skinner asked as he got up and joined the other man in the corridor outside.

I shook my head. "No. There's more going on here."

"Need to know, isn't that the phrase?" Tara asked.

"If it involves my family, I need to know," I replied.

"Jesus, Bill, what is it with the two of you?" Charlie ran his fingers through his hair, the first rays of the rising sun glinting off his Academy ring. "You and Dana both. You're like dogs with a bone."

"Look at the shit Dana's gone through," I said, leaning forward. "That we know of."

"You think there's more?" Tara asked.

"Dana's always tended to be kind of close-mouthed." Charlie answered.

"What do we know?" I continued, ticking points off on my fingers. "Every time I come back, it seems like she's been in the hospital for something or other. Missy's getting shot by somebody who thought she was Dana. That time when Dana disappeared. That whole business with that kid Emily, which I still don't understand. That chip in Dana's neck that's supposed to have cured her cancer."

"Wouldn't that count as a good thing?" Tara asked.

"If it was, wouldn't there be some sort of news about it?" I countered. "A cure for cancer? My God, there are millions of people around the world who would worship you as the Second Coming of Christ Himself if it really worked. But nothing. What's wrong with this picture?"

Charlie nodded. "It was supposed to be experimental, wasn't it? Isn't that what Mulder said?"

"Actually, he said it was alien," Tara replied, rolling her eyes.

"Then there's Mulder," I continued. "The man's a total nut-job and a complete shit-head, but damned if that means somebody can do that kind of shit," I waved my hand in the direction of Mulder's room, "to him. To anybody."

"So you're thinking enemy action," Charlie replied.

"Yes."

"When you put it like that," Charlie spread his hands. "Like Tara said, the only other explanation is an incredibly unlikely series of accidents and coincidences. So what do we do now?"

"We talk to Dana," I replied. "Until we know who the enemy is, we can't figure out how to fight him."

"No," Tara broke in. "I mean, not yet," she continued as Charlie and I turned to look at her. She took my hand in hers. "Right now Dana is wondering if she'll ever again be able to look into the eyes of the man she loves. She's wondering if the father of her child will ever get to hold his son or daughter in his arms. The last thing she needs right now is you two badgering her. Let her get through this. If- when," she corrected herself, "Mulder comes out of his coma, we'll all know more. But not yet."

Charlie looked at me. "She's right."

"She usually is," I replied. "No questions. For now." I looked over at Tara and squeezed her hand, wondering how much of the thoughts and emotions she attributed to Dana had ever gone through her mind. She smiled back at me. Whatever fears she felt while I was at sea, she'd never let me know.

I looked up as Skinner came back into the waiting room. "There will be a guard on Mulder's room at all times. We'll need a recent photograph from each of you. Don't." This last comment was directed at Frohike, who had opened his mouth in protest. "The agents will be keeping a record of all persons who enter and leave Mulder's room." He paused for a moment, obviously uncomfortable.

"Thank you, sir," Dana's voice came from the doorway. Mom stood behind her, worry plain on her face. "The injuries to Mulder's back appear to be much less serious than we originally thought," Dana said as she moved into the room. "They've finished what tests can be done on him while he's still unconscious." She took a deep breath. "Mulder's involuntary reflexes are within normal parameters, anything," her voice shook for a moment, "anything else will have to wait until he wakes up."

"Dana-" Charlie began.

"Scully-" Frohike began at the same time.

Dana held up her hand. "Go home, get some rest, all of you."

"And you, Dana?" Tara asked.

"I'm staying."

Tara pulled her car keys out of her pocket. "I know. I'll ride home with Bill and Charlie." She pressed the keys into Dana's hand. "Keep the car as long as you need it."

"Thank you," Dana whispered. She looked around. "Thank all of you." She gave us a tiny, tremulous smile, then walked back to Mulder. 

We rode the elevator down in silence, the Lone Gunmen turning one way as we stepped off the elevator, heading for the back parking lot while the Scullys headed for the hospital's front door. "Wonder what crawled up Skinner's ass this time." I looked up to see two young men in suits walking through the hospital's main entrance.

"More shit for the Slice Queen," his companion replied. "Fucking bitch gets knocked up and now she's crazier than Spooky ever was." His nose made a crunching noise under my fist as he fell to the floor.

"What the-" the first agent pulled his weapon. "Hold it right there, asshole."

"Put up your weapon, Agent," Doggett barked.

"Sir-"

"I said, put up your weapon, now." The agent complied, bending down to help his companion to his feet. Doggett turned to Mom. "Mrs. Scully, on behalf of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, I humbly apologize for the behavior of these two gentlemen." The two agents flinched at the blandness of his tone as he uttered the last word.

Mom inclined her head regally. "Thank you, Mr. Doggett."

"Report to AD Skinner and get that nose taken care of," Doggett ordered. The two younger agents glared at me and walked away. "Again, I apologize-"

"How much of that does Dana have to put up with?" Charlie demanded.

Doggett sighed. "Too much." He gestured to a group of couches forming their own little nook. We settled on the couches in silence. Tara examined my hand as Doggett began to speak. "When I was first assigned to the X-Files I tried everything I could to get out of it. After all, this was the assignment that had destroyed the careers of the golden boy of Behavioral Sciences and the fair-haired girl of Quantico."

"You mean Dana?" Tara asked.

Doggett smiled. "I talked to some people who were around when Agent Scully graduated. The smart money had her running Pathology in ten years, the entire Forensics Lab in twenty."

"It sounds to me as if you don't feel that way about the X-Files any more, Mr. Doggett," Mom said quietly.

"No ma'am, I don't." He ran his fingers through his hair. "When I started I didn't think much of Agent Scully. I was prepared to cut her some slack because her partner had gone missing, but the woman I met then would never have made it into the Bureau in the first place. That went on for about a month, maybe six weeks or so and I was beginning to think her reputation had been vastly overblown." He waved his hand. "Yeah, the X-Files under her and Mulder had had one of the highest solve rates of any division in the Bureau, but that could be explained by them not getting any of the real tough cases. After all, Mulder was supposed to have connections to some pretty powerful people, people who had worked with his father and grandfather. And hell, the cases- sorry, ma'am, uh, ma'ams," Doggett apologized. Mom and Tara nodded back at him.

"Anyway," he continued, "I don't know what happened, but suddenly I saw why she had that reputation." His mouth twisted in a half-smile. "Now I don't even try to keep up with her. I just do the legwork. And I understood both why so many people hated," he grimaced, "Spooky and the Slice Queen, and why they were the ones who got called in to solve the cases that couldn't be solved, the ones everyone else had given up on."

"The Slice Queen," Mom repeated. "Not very imaginative, is it?"

Doggett grinned. "No ma'am, it isn't." His smile died. "Do you know why they started calling Mulder Spooky?"

"I assume it had something to do with the X-Files," Charlie answered.

Doggett shook his head. "He got it back in Behavioral, from the way he could get inside a perp's mind. It didn't become an insult until after he threw away a brilliant career to go chase little green men. Then the Bureau administration assigned a hotshot doctor to rein him in, debunk his claims, maybe even give them an excuse to shut the X-Files down, in spite of Mulder's supporters." He snorted. "Mulder'd been assigned other partners before, of course, either agents on their way out or agents being punished. Needless to say, they didn't make very good partners."

"Is there a point to this, Mr. Doggett?" I ground out.

"The Bureau's a pretty cutthroat place, filled with ambitious people who will do anything to get, and stay, on top," Doggett replied.

"So?" I challenged.

"Would somebody high up in the Forensics section be one of these ambitious people?" Charlie asked slowly. "And would one of the things they might do is get a hotshot subordinate sent to a career killing assignment?"

Doggett smiled grimly. "Such things have been known to happen, Mr. Scully." He ran his fingers through his hair again. "I originally headed up the task force looking into Mulder's disappearance. I studied his file, and hers. I talked to people about them. I learned Fox Mulder was an arrogant, egotistical asshole and Dana Scully an ice-cold, ball-busting bitch. And that they were unfailingly courteous to everyone. Not only their fellow agents, but also the lab techs, the secretaries, even the damn cleaning lady. That neither of them suffered fools gladly." He smiled slightly. "No matter what their position. Although Agent Scully tended to be more diplomatic about it. That they flat out would not play the political game." He sighed. "Even with all that, they still could have gone back, to Behavioral, to Quantico. Even now." He stared off into the distance. "Either one of them could have what everyone's supposed to want, hell, what I want, and they've tossed it aside." He looked back at us. "She's a tough woman, that whole business with that slug thing convinced me of that." He waved his hand dismissively. "Long story. The point is, Dana Scully is probably one of the smartest, toughest people I know, man or woman, and one of the finest investigators I've ever worked with. What you heard there was nothing more than envious gossip, repeated by sycophants. Don't take it seriously. Agent Scully doesn't. And don't worry about Agent Chims, Commander. He's been up before OPR for conduct unbecoming once already."

"Thank you, Mr. Doggett," Mom replied as we all stood. "It means a lot to know Dana and Fox have someone on their side."

"They have more than they know." He nodded slightly and headed for the elevators. "Oh, and one more thing," he added as the elevator doors opened. "As far as I know, nobody's ever dared use that name in front of Agent Scully." He nodded again as the elevator doors closed.

Mom turned to me. "As for you, young man," she began.

I held up my hand. "Yes ma'am, I'm sorry. It won't happen again." Mom just nodded in reply as we walked out the doors. I turned to Tara as a thought struck me. "What did you drive?"

"The truck," she replied.

"My briefcase is in the back."

"Do you have your keys?"

"No. I'll be back in a bit."

Doggett was standing guard in front of Mulder's room when I got off the elevator. "I just need to get something real quick." He nodded and stood aside as I opened the door to see Dana sitting beside Mulder, holding his hand.

"-smoking bastard asked me to perform his autopsy." By the time the sentence was finished Dana had her gun out and pointed at me. "Jesus, Bill." She reholstered her gun and smiled nervously. "Sorry, I'm a little on edge."

I blinked. "I just came back so I could get my briefcase out of the truck," I said slowly. "It's got student papers I have to give back Monday."

Dana tossed me the keys. "Umm, Bill, could you not-" her voice trailed off.

"I think Mom has enough to worry about," I replied. "At least keep the safety on?"

"Always," Dana replied. I chose to believe her. 

When I returned Dana was standing in the hallway confronting a man who looked vaguely familiar. Doggett and Skinner stood in front of Mulder's door, far enough away to be out of earshot, but both men were watching intently. "Believe it or not, Agent Scully, we're on the same side."

Dana snorted as I stopped. Neither of them had noticed me yet. "The only side you've ever been on is your own," she retorted. "Did you come here for a reason or is this just morbid curiosity?"

"If it was just morbid curiosity, I would have let Mulder die as an unidentified John Doe." His mouth quirked in a one-sided smile. "As I said, we have a common enemy." He shrugged then, and his tone lightened. "Not to mention, I always have been a bit of a romantic. Until next time, Agent Scully." He turned towards me and gave a sardonic smile. "Eavesdropping is almost as impolite as mutiny, don't you agree, Commander?"

My eyes focused on his left hand, his artificial left hand, and the pieces clicked into place. "Alexander Krycek."

His face paled and he stepped back. "I didn't pull the damn trigger."

"Close enough," I growled, taking a step forward.

"Bill, no." Dana stood in front of me, her hand on my chest. "Not yet." She turned her head to glare at Krycek. "Not yet," she repeated. We watched as he walked away. He shoved what looked like a Palm Pilot into Skinner's chest as he passed, never even bothering to slow down. Skinner barely caught the device before it hit the floor. "How did you know who he was?" Dana asked after Krycek had turned the corner and disappeared.

"Do you think you're the only one with friends, Dana?"

"Keep out of it, Bill," Dana replied. "For Tara and Matthew's sake, keep out of it."

__

End Part I

Comments? Questions? Opinions? [RFrankeUS@yahoo.com][1]

   [1]: mailto:RFrankeUS@yahoo.com



	2. What do you see in him, Dana?

"Uncle Bill, what was my father like

TITLE: Guardian (Part II)

AUTHOR: R. Franke

E-MAIL: [RFrankeUS@yahoo.com][1]

RATING: PG-13

CLASSIFICATION: MSR, Bill Scully POV

SPOILERS: Through Roadrunners, and my stories The Letter and Wedding Toast. Not a series, just a shared universe.

SUMMARY: "What do you see in him, Dana? Why him, and not someone else? Someone, I don't know, more normal?"

DISCLAIMER: Scully, Mulder, et al. are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, the Fox Network, the actors, writers, and all other persons known or unknown with a legal claim on the characters. All characters unique to this story are the property of R. Franke. This is a story of fan fiction, written for the purpose of personal satisfaction and the enjoyment of others, and monetary or other compensation is neither expected nor desired.

ARCHIVE: Permission is given to archive this story, provided it is archived without alteration, including this disclaimer and copyright notice, and the author is contacted at [RFrankeUS@yahoo.com][1]

COPYRIGHT 2001 by R. Franke

****

GUARDIAN

Part II

The next time I went up to the hospital I found Dana sitting alone, staring at an empty bed, the rosewood and sterling silver rosary she had inherited from our grandmother clutched in her hands. "Dana?" I asked softly. "Where's Mulder?"

"Surgery," she replied. She gave me an embarrassed smile as she slipped the rosary into her jacket pocket. "It helps."

I gave her a small smile in return. "How bad is it? From what Mom's told me I thought he was doing pretty well."

"They gave him a chip," she blurted. "Like mine. Different design though. They don't give the cancer to men. At least they didn't." She stared down at her hands. "Mostly they just tested them to death and then dumped the bodies. Or left them insane. We never have figured out why they'd let most of the women and only a few of the men survive."

"He wants it out?"

"We both want to live a normal life, a life out in the open." Dana paused and looked levelly at me. "But if we can't, he doesn't want there to be any way to track us." 

I sat for a moment, trying to frame my response properly. "What about your chip?" I asked finally. "Are you going to take it out, too? I thought it was supposed to be keeping your cancer in check."

Dana smiled faintly at that. "My chip was taken out before I got pregnant."

"The cancer?"

"Gone."

"Are you sure?"

"Not entirely, no. But I'd be seeing signs by now, and I was told by a source that, well, let's just say a source that likes to tell lies with the truth, that my chip had malfunctioned."

"Malfunctioned?"

"It cured the cancer, instead of just controlling it."

"And your pregnancy?"

"That happened the old-fashioned way."

"You know what I mean, Dana."

"I don't know. Possibly." She looked up as a doctor came into the room. "Yes?" The doctor gave me a doubtful look. "My brother," Dana said simply.

The doctor nodded and took a deep breath. "I tried three times, Dr. Scully. If I even touch the chip, he goes into convulsions. He coded the last time." He paused as a pair of orderlies brought Mulder in and placed him on the bed. "The anaesthetic should wear off in an hour or so."

"Thank you, Doctor," Dana replied, adjusting Mulder to a more comfortable position. "Thank you for trying."

The three men left the room as Dana continued to fuss over Mulder. "Mom says the two of you have been talking to Father McCue." Dana stilled. "I would have appreciated hearing about it from you."

Dana turned to face me. "I wasn't sure how you'd react."

I looked down at Mulder. "What do you see in him, Dana? Why him, and not someone else? Someone, I don't know, more normal?"

"Tara has been stable for a while now," Dana replied slowly. "Since before Matthew was born. But there's always the chance the medication could stop working, that she'll have an 'episode' again."

"I knew what I was getting into when I married her."

"So do I, Bill."

I smiled grudgingly. "Point taken, Dana. Just don't ask me to be his new best buddy or anything like that."

Dana smiled. "I won't." She looked down. "I-I'm glad you're okay with this."

"He wouldn't be my first choice, but he's yours, and I guess that's what matters."

"Still-" she looked down at her hands again. "Billy, there's something," she paused, then the words came out in a rush. "When I was a little girl, I used to fantasize about what my wedding day would be like."

"That sounds more like something Missy would do."

"Trust me, Bill, every little girl dreams about her wedding day. No matter how much of a tomboy she is." She smiled slightly. "I always thought that it would be Dad walking me down the aisle." She took a deep breath and looked up at me. "If you don't feel you can, I'll understand, it won't change anything, but I'd like it if you could be the one to walk me down the aisle."

"I would be honored, Dana." 

"Guys, put the shotguns away," Mulder laughed as he held up his hands. "I'm marrying Scully, and-"

"Why don't you call her Dana?" Charlie asked. Mulder blinked, his face suddenly blank. "Husbands and wives are allowed to call each other by their first names these days," Charlie continued.

"We tried that," Mulder replied. "Lasted about a day and a half." He smiled ruefully. "Look guys, I know it seems weird, but we've been Mulder and Scully for years now and," he spread his hands, "I guess we're just used to it."

I leaned forward. "What I want to know is, what happens when you see some more of your lights in the sky. Are you going to go haring off after them again?"

"I still," Mulder replied slowly, "want to find out the truth. About what happened to Scully, and to me, and the reasons behind it all. I want, I need, tangible proof. Scully's taught me that, if nothing else. But finding the truth won't mean a thing if I can't bring back clear and convincing evidence of what-"

"What about Dana?" I interrupted. "And the child? Your child. Yes, I know," I continued, overriding his attempt at an immediate comeback. "Dana's going to be spending more time in the lab, at least until the baby's on solid food, while you and Agent Doggett take care of the rough stuff. But what happens when the rough stuff turns around and bites you in-" I glanced over to where Matthew was inspecting the metal arm cuffs of Mulder's crutches and quickly censored myself. "And bites back. What then?"

"What if something had happened on one of your deployments?" Mulder asked.

"That's not the same thing-" I began.

Mulder cut me off. "Isn't it, Lieutenant Commander Scully? What if you hadn't come back from your last cruise? What then?" He leaned forward as I mentally cursed myself for allowing him to outmaneuver me. "You and I-"

"You've made your point," I conceded. "Agent Mulder." Two, I decided, could play the formality game. "But that still-" I stopped as the front door swung open and Tara, Mom, and Dana trooped in, laden with bags.

"Did you leave anything for the other customers?" Mulder asked.

Dana quirked an eyebrow. "I told you he was a funny man."

"Hilarious," Tara deadpanned in reply.

"What have you boys been doing while we were out?" Mom asked quickly.

"Just watching the game, talking about things," Charlie replied. I glanced over at the TV and felt my heart sink as I realized my beloved O's had, in their inimitable style, once again snatched defeat from the jaws of victory, blowing a four run lead to trail by two at the bottom of the eighth.

"What sort of things?" Dana asked.

"Oh, sandlot games when you were a kid, that sort of thing," Mulder replied. "You know, Scully. Guy stuff."

"An' Uncle Mulder's," Matthew piped up, his face twisting as he carefully pronounced Mulder's name correctly, "lights inna sky."

"Bill," Dana growled.

"What are you blaming me for?" I demanded.

"I was the one who brought the subject up, Scully," Mulder said.

"Yeah, Bill was just saying how great a shortstop you were," Charlie chimed in. "Almost as good as Cal."

"Besides, Dana," Tara added brightly, taking Dana's hand and attempting to pull her towards the kitchen, "we need to make a final decision on the caterer."

"The caterer can wait," Dana snapped, yanking her hand from Tara's grip. "Mulder wouldn't use the phrase "lights in the sky", and-"

"And I seem to remember the phrase "I've never hit a baseball in my life" coming from your lips, Scully," Mulder interrupted with a grin. I wondered about that for a moment. Dana had always been an easy out whenever we played, but I was sure she must have hit something.

"That's not the point, Mulder-"

"The point, Dana Katherine," Mom interrupted sternly, "is that if you have not decided on a caterer by 9 am tomorrow morning your guests will be eating stale cheese sandwiches. John McCue didn't go to all the trouble of getting the bishop to grant a dispensation just so you could-" her voice faded out as she and Tara each grabbed an arm and pulled Dana into the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind them.

Mulder looked at us solemnly. "I promise you guys, anybody that wants to hurt them is going to have to go through me."

"Through us," Charlie replied. "We're family, Mulder," he explained as Mulder responded with the blank look that I was beginning to realize meant his brain was kicking into high gear.

Mulder grinned wryly. "Family," he repeated. 

I remembered being in Baltimore just over a year ago for something or other and deciding to drop by Mom's. I was just starting up the front stoop when I heard Dana's angry voice drifting out of the open window. "Teena Mulder abandoned her son to crawl inside a Valium bottle. The hell if she deserves to have anyone mourning her." I could hear the sound of Mom's voice as she replied, too softly for me to make out the words as I turned around and went back to my car.

I nodded and handed him a beer from the cooler by my feet. "I'm holding you to that, Mulder." He tipped the bottle towards me in acknowledgement and slid the pretzels across the coffee table. "What about the music?" I asked.

"Looks like it'll be either the Bach or Handel, with Pachelbel for the recessional," Charlie replied. "We haven't really discussed incidental music yet."

"I've got a few ideas," Mulder began.

Charlie held up his hand. "Before you go any further, let me just say that Dana has made it perfectly clear she will break every single one of my fingers if I play one of your suggestions without clearing it through her first."

Mulder threw up his hands. "Don't I get a say about anything in this wedding?"

"…idiotic macho posturing…" Dana's voice drifted out as Tara opened the kitchen door.

"No," Tara replied as she grabbed a couple of the bags they'd left in the hall and went back into the kitchen.

"If she'd listen to me for once we'd've been married by now," Mulder grumbled.

"Tara was just as bad," I offered sympathetically.

"So was Lauren," Charlie put in. With a wry smile he added, "At least I didn't have to deal with pregnancy hormones."

I took a swallow from my beer. "You just have to remember, every third sentence out of your mouth had better be 'Yes, dear' for the time being."

Mulder groaned as Charlie and I laughed. "Like I don't do that enough already."

"Not to hear Dana tell it," Charlie answered.

"Speaking of which," Mulder said. "What's this about her playing shortstop?"

We kept the conversation to baseball after that until Mom called us to dinner.

"She's no worse than I was," Tara replied, resting her chin on my chest.

"You weren't that bad," I protested. "I keep telling you, you've got a sharp little chin."

Tara slid her hands up my chest and propped them under her chin. "Better? That's just because whenever I saw you I'd get all soft and squooshy inside. With everyone else, I was a bitch on wheels."

"Thanks. You were just anxious. Dana on the other hand- And I don't think that's a word."

"It is so too a word." Tara raised herself up slightly to look directly into my eyes. "Dana just wants everything to be perfect, just like I did and just like every woman does."

"So you're saying grin and bear it. And no it isn't."

Tara laid her head back down. "Yep. Besides in the end all she's really going to care about is standing up in front of the world and saying this is the man I am going to spend the rest of my life with."

"With Mulder."

Tara raised her head up again. "You're not going to cause trouble, are you?"

"First off," I protested, "that whole incident got blown way out of proportion. Yes, I admit I didn't handle it as well as I could have, but frankly, neither did he. And secondly while I do think the man's spaceship could use a few more retrorockets, if I was that deadset against it, come Saturday it'd be someone else walking Dana down the aisle."

"I know." Tara rubbed my chest. "You know, if you think about it right, the omens are pretty good for this marriage."

"Omens?" I laughed. "Tell me you're not channeling Missy." I sighed. "Okay, I'll bite. What omens?"

"Well, really only one," Tara replied.

"And that is?"

"Pregnancy. Your mom was pregnant with you and Missy when they got married and I was pregnant when we got married. Lauren was the only one who wasn't, and they got divorced. I just hope it turns out better for them than it did for us," she added sadly.

No matter how long I live, the worst day of my life is going to be the third day of our honeymoon, when I woke up to a bed full of blood and a wife so pale I thought I was a widower. Even the time a month later when I found her standing with a knife in her hands, blood running down into the kitchen sink, runs second to the fear and helplessness I felt then.

I raised her chin up with my hand and looked into her eyes. "They'll be fine," I said firmly. "Don't start borrowing trouble."

Tara smiled and reached her hand up, pulling my head down to hers. "I love you," she murmured against my lips as she kissed me. "And it is a word."

The wedding went beautifully. Dana had a little moment of panic while we were waiting for the ceremony to start, but I managed to get her settled down in time for me to walk her down the aisle to Mulder's side. "Who gives this woman into holy matrimony?" Father McCue intoned.

"I give myself," Dana responded.

"With the love and support of her family," I added as Dana gave my hand a gentle squeeze and lifted her hand from mine to place it in Mulder's waiting palm.

I caught a glimpse of the radiant smile Dana gave Mulder as I turned away, my part in the ceremony over with, and the goofy grin that spread across Mulder's face in reply. Tara stood as one of Dana's bridesmaids, Matthew beside her, the pillow and rings he had borne now resting safely on a stand beside Father McCue. Tara and I shared a smile of our own as I collected Matthew and we sat down beside Mom, who was already dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief.

St. Mary's is a lovely church, a classic example of Victorian-era Gothic Revival architecture, but there was a surprising amount of dust in the air. Tara, of course, misinterpreted completely the one or two sniffles I gave and mouthed "Softie" to me as she and Mulder's friend Langley passed by during the recessional. I forbore from pointing out that there had been more than a few sniffles coming from Mulder's side of the aisle as well.

Even with that, it was still a lovely ceremony, and with none of the bizarre events that seemed to occur with such regularity in Dana's life. At least until after the ceremony.

I was coming back from the men's room when I heard Dana's voice. "You two are the only other people to have survived both the vaccine and the black oil."

I peeked around the corner to see Dana and Mulder standing with their backs to me. Krycek stood beside them. A slender blonde stood beyond them, facing away as if she had turned to leave. "You're asking too much, Agent Scully." I ducked back around the corner as the blonde whirled to face them. "Far too much."

"You once told me you wanted to be more than a glorified secretary to a group of frightened old men," Mulder commented quietly.

"Playing baby factory isn't my idea of an improvement, Agent Mulder," the blonde retorted.

"They're right," Krycek interjected. "You know they are. We both do. Everything we're doing to keep them looking in the other direction means nothing if we can't develop a vaccine that doesn't kill off ninety percent of the population."

"That's easy for you to say," the blonde retorted. "Thirty seconds and your job's done."

"Do you think that little of me, Marishka?" he asked softly.

"Damn you," she replied, equally softly. "Damn you." There was a long silence, then the blonde continued in a soft, toneless voice. "They fear us, Agent Scully. What to us is a natural and," she gave a small snort that could have been taken for amusement, "not entirely undesirable fact of life, is to them something utterly incomprehensible, utterly alien, and completely terrifying."

"You came to us, Ms. Covarrubias," Dana replied quietly.

"Congratulations Agents," Covarrubias said, her voice flat. "May your life together be filled with all the happiness you deserve." I heard her heels clicking on the tile floor as she walked away, accompanied by Krycek's heavier male tread.

"Scully," Mulder began.

"We need them, Mulder," Dana replied. "God help us, but we can't do this without the information and access they have."

"Maybe, Scully. But they need us as well. They've betrayed too many people too many times to have any hope of surviving otherwise."

"That's what worries me, Mulder."

I waited until I heard them walk away before I emerged from concealment.

Mulder answered the door when I knocked at Dana's new place. His and Dana's, I should say. "Tara sent me over with some of Matthew's baby clothes and stuff," I said, holding up the bags. "There's more in the car."

Mulder looked baffled for a moment, then his face cleared. "Oh. Oh right. Scu- er, Dana did say something about that. She's on a consult, she should be back soon." He looked back over his shoulder. "Things are, um, kind of a mess right now. Why don't you just leave those here and I'll get them."

I snorted as I eyed Mulder's cane. "You've still got what, two more months with that thing? Dana'd kill me if I made you lug everything through the house." I stepped around Mulder and went in. "Besides, as often as we've had to move it's not like I'm not used to seeing- Jesus!" Covering the coffee table were photographs of the mutilated bodies of young women. Girls, really. Four photos of attractive, smiling young blondes to one side of the table seemed even more obscene as I realized their faces matched the faces in the other photographs.

"He got around me before I could stop him, Scully, I swear," I heard Mulder say.

"Let's just get him into the kitchen," Dana replied, taking me by the arm. I could smell the coppery tang of blood and other less pleasant bodily liquids, and underlying it all was a thick, almost sweetish smell that seemed to lodge in the back of my throat and press against my gag reflex.

"You guys in Pathology stop up the plumbing again?" Mulder cracked. "Shower, Scully," he ordered in a more serious tone. "I'll take care of him." Dana retreated upstairs as I followed Mulder into the kitchen and collapsed in the first chair I came to. Mulder plunked a glass of something in front of me. "Drink."

Whatever it was made a soothing burn in my stomach as I swallowed. I concentrated on the glass in my hand until I could collect my thoughts and be sure my voice would work properly. "I thought- I thought you guys weren't going to be taking any more cases for a while. Letting Doggett handle things. That doesn't look like handling things to me."

"Doggett's a plodder, but he can keep things going until we get back," Mulder replied. "That's just a consult, a wedding present of sorts from Investigative Support." He snorted. "It's got weird shit in it, call the Spookys. Personally, I was hoping for a fondue pot."

"I'll give you ours." I pointed towards the living room. "That's not an X-file, what happened to those girls? No aliens, no monsters of any kind? Those symbols, they don't mean anything?"

"Oh, there's a monster," Mulder answered. "The same kind of monster as Jeffery Dahmer or Ted Bundy. And those symbols are supposed to make us think we're looking at ritualistic cult killings." He held up a bottle of Scotch. "Another? We're not, of course. The UNSUB is working alone."

I shook my head. "Are you telling me that a person, one person, did," I swallowed heavily and started again. "One guy did that to those four girls?"

Mulder grimaced. "I'm afraid so. And it's five, now. Scully was supposed to observe the fifth victim's autopsy and bring me a copy of her file, but observing for your sister usually means participating, if not outright taking over." He smiled. "She can be rather," Mulder paused slightly, "assertive at times, especially in an autopsy bay. Pregnancy just seems to be making it worse."

"The Slice Queen," I responded dully. "That's what Doggett said they call her."

"Yes, they do." I looked up to see Dana standing in the kitchen doorway, dressed in an overlarge sweatshirt from the FBI Academy and a pair of maternity jeans. Water dripped from her hair, darkening the sweatshirt. "Also Ghoul, Ghoulish Red, Dr. Death, the Ice Queen, and Doc Ice," she continued, pulling a chair around and sitting down to face me. "Pretty much what every pathologist gets."

Mulder said something about cleaning up and left. I stared down at the empty glass in my hand. "Did you know this is only the second time I've drunk hard liquor since Matthew was born?"

"No, I didn't," Dana replied softly.

"I could see myself turning into Uncle Jimmy," I continued, still staring down at the glass in my hands. "That isn't the example I want to set for Matthew. Saying, being, like that."

Dana laid her hand my forearm and gently squeezed. "You aren't Uncle Jimmy. You couldn't be." She paused for a moment. "But that doesn't mean you didn't get pretty close."

"I know." I looked down at the floor. "I guess this is why you don't like to talk about work whenever we get together," I said finally.

Dana took the glass from my hands, setting it on the table. "I've always thought it better if you guys didn't know all the details of what I do." She took my hands in hers. "I'm sorry you had to see that, but this is what I do, Bill."

"I know," I replied softly. "But why does it have to be you?"

"It's what I do, Bill," she repeated softly. "It's who I am."

"Scully," I looked up to see Mulder standing in the doorway, teeth bared in a wolfish grin. "Scully," he repeated, holding up a file folder, "I love you."

Dana's expression became just as predatory, with perhaps a hint of smugness as well. "I thought you'd like that."

"Does this mean you'll catch this guy?" I demanded, thinking of those pictures in the living room.

"We're a lot closer than we were this morning," Mulder replied. "I'll be in the bedroom," he called over his shoulder as he left. "Living room's clear."

Dana smiled at me. "Come on, I'll show you the nursery." I stayed silent. Her smile died as she searched my face. "What? What is it, Bill?"

I shook my head. "I was thinking this is a side of you I've never seen before," I began.

"Bill-"

"The scary thing," I continued, "is that, strange as this may sound, it doesn't seem wrong. It should, but-" I shrugged my shoulders as my voice trailed off.

"I'm still me, Bill," Dana replied as she held out her hands. "I haven't changed."

"Maybe I have, then," I answered as I stood and grasped her hands. "Dana," I continued slowly as I helped her stand, "that, it means a great deal to you, doesn't it?" I asked, nodding at her FBI sweatshirt.

She gave my own Navy T-shirt a significant glance and raised her eyes to meet mine. "Yes, it does."

I nodded solemnly. "I guess I just never let myself realize how much." I paused for a moment, gathering my thoughts. "The others, they," I began.

"They don't need to know about this sort of thing," Dana answered. "They can't."

I shook my head in agreement. "They're civilians."

"They're civilians," Dana repeated with a wry smile.

My eyes widened and I responded with a rueful grin of my own as I realized what I had admitted. "Yes, they are civilians." I took a deep breath. "And we're not."

"No," Dana replied solemnly, her eyes locking with mine. "We're not." I recognized the haunted look in her eyes, the look that had begun for me with a young Force Recon Marine whose death was still officially acknowledged only as a tragic accident, and culminating in fourteen dead sailors, five dead SEALS, and my first command a crippled boat deep inside Chinese territorial waters.

I realized something else as well. When I gave the order that sent our fish into the carrier and fooled the enemy into thinking they had come from the second Chinese boat, I hadn't known the sailors I was killing. Not their names, nor their faces. Those times when my little sister had been forced to pull the trigger, she saw their faces, knew their names. The fact that they were criminals didn't change the fact of their humanity. "From what I hear, sis, you're not half bad at what you do," I said, trying to lighten the mood and convey my sincerity at the same time. 

Dana smiled and held out her arm. "Come on, big brother, it's time for you to say nice things about our wallpapering abilities." We kept the conversation to inconsequentials after that, and I made the proper noises about the work they'd done on the nursery. It wasn't until I was driving home that I realized I had forgotten to ask her about that little scene with Krycek at the wedding.

I was grading essays when the two-star came into my office. "Sir?" I started to rise and salute when he waved me back down and took a seat.

"At ease, Commander. This isn't a formal visit, at least not yet. John Ruggin." He held out his hand.

"Bill Scully," I replied, shaking his hand. "What can I do for you, Admiral?"

"I'm sure you've heard something about the unsettled situation in the South China Sea right now, Commander."

"Only what I read in the papers, sir." The discovery that the Spratly Island oil field was not only larger than previously thought, but of a purity outmatched only by the Persian Gulf field had touched off a firestorm of competing claims and counterclaims over the barely inhabited archipelago.

"The PLAN will be performing naval exercises in the region. Coincidentally, there'll be an ANZUS combined fleet goodwill tour to the ASEAN nations in the same area."

"Yes, sir," I replied, carefully keeping my face blank.

"Admiral Li will be in command of the Chinese task force."

"Yes, sir."

Ruggin leaned back in his chair. "I would have thought that the naval officer with the temerity to rewrite and update Mahan might be interested in seeing how closely his theories matched reality."

"I can't say that I'm not, sir," I replied. "But my work is here now, until the Navy chooses differently."

Ruggin sighed. "Ah, yes, your administrative review. Did you know the average time for an administrative review is less than three weeks, Commander?"

I nodded. "Yes sir, I am aware of that fact."

"Then again, Commander, you did commit mutiny, pure and simple. No matter what the circumstances, you seized command of an American military vessel from its lawfully recognized commander during a combat situation. The only reason you weren't court-martialed is the political situation."

"Yes sir," I replied, stiffening to attention

"I said at ease, Commander." Ruggin nodded at the picture on my desk. "Is that your family?"

"Yes sir," I answered, allowing some of the confusion I felt to show in my voice. "My wife Tara, and our son Matthew."

"He looks like a fine boy, Commander."

"Thank you, sir."

"My late wife and I were never blessed with children of our own. You're a lucky man." The admiral raised his head, spearing me with his eyes. "Tell me something, Commander. If you had to do it all over again, would you?"

I started to speak, stopped, then started again. "Not exactly, sir."

"Not exactly?"

"If I had to do it over again sir, I would have acted before nineteen men were dead."

"I see." He smiled slightly. "I'm not with ONI, NCIS or anyone else, Commander. I didn't come here to try and trap you. I'm here to see if you'd be interested in getting your feet wet again. As my Operations Officer."

"My experience has been in subs, Admiral, not surface ships," I replied. "Not to mention that I do have a responsibility to my students as well."

"But you know how Li thinks, Commander. You've outthought him once already. You're a hell of a tactician and have a better grasp of strategy than most officers of your rank."

I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Thank you, sir. But there was a certain amount of luck involved as well."

The Admiral snorted. "I grew up near Las Vegas, Commander. I don't trust luck. If I thought that was all you had going for you I'd let you rot here. But I've read your articles, talked to people. Yes, you were lucky. Things came together for you. But you knew how to take advantage of what came your way. Now the Chinese are out two subs, one of which they took out themselves, and their only operational flattop ended up with one hell of a hole in her side. A lot of people know what happened, Commander Scully," he continued. "But the people who would talk don't know enough to be convincing, and those that do are smart enough to keep their mouths shut." He leaned back in his chair. "Besides, if your students still need you to hold their hands this late in the game, are you really doing your job?"

"I can't say the idea doesn't intrigue me, sir, and normally I'd jump at the chance," I replied. "As for my students," I continued stiffly, "I have complete confidence in their abilities and their judgements." Ruggin nodded slightly in apology. "But," I concluded, "the fact remains that I am still under administrative review."

"And that," Ruggin replied, "is the problem." He looked down at his hands. "As I said, my wife and I were never blessed with children of our own, but that doesn't mean we didn't have children in our lives." I rose as the admiral stood and replaced his cover on his head. "Ensign Delahoy is my godson, Commander. If nothing else, you have my gratitude, along with the gratitude of the family and friends of the 137 other men you brought back. I'll start the paperwork as soon as I get back to the Pentagon." 

"Bill, what are you doing here? Don't tell me you missed your flight."

"Oh, she's so cute," Tara cooed, eyes locked on the tiny bundle in Dana's arms.

"What, I can't at least say hi to my brand-new niece before I go?" I smiled. "Relax, Dana, I'm catching a later flight. I'll still be there in plenty of time."

"We're glad you could make it," Mulder replied. He sat on the hospital bed beside Dana with a slightly stunned look on his face, looking simultaneously overjoyed and scared to death.

Dana and Tara shared a smile. "Didn't Bill have that same expression on his face when Matthew was born?"

Dana looked at Mulder, then at me. "And for about three weeks afterwards as well."

"Very funny," I growled. "May I see her?" Tara moved out of the way so I could get a glimpse.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Mulder asked, his eyes never leaving the baby's slumbering face.

Most babies look like either Winston Churchill or Alfred Hitchcock, and my brand-new niece was no exception. Matthew had been the only baby I had ever seen who didn't, so I just said "Yeah, Mulder, she is."

"Have you decided on a name yet?" Tara asked.

"We're still in negotiations," Dana replied wryly.

"Esmerelda is a perfectly good name," Mulder protested.

"For somebody's ninety-year old maiden aunt," Dana retorted.

"She was my favorite aunt."

"Could you at least have a name picked out by the time I get back?" I interjected.

"How soon to you have to go?" Dana asked.

"Pretty much now," I replied. "But before I left, we wanted to let you know," my arm went around Tara, "she's going to have another cousin soon."

"Congratulations," Mulder smiled.

"That's wonderful," Dana said simultaneously. "How far along are you?"

"About seven weeks," Tara replied. "We found out for sure a couple days ago."

"I really do have to be going now," I said, leaning over and kissing Dana on the cheek as Tara went around the bed and gave Mulder a hug.

Dana put her free arm around my neck and kissed my cheek in return. "Be careful out there, big brother. Watch where you're going this time."

"You just worry about yourself, baby sis, and take care of my favorite niece," I replied. Dana made a face at the hated nickname, then gave me a wide smile. "Both of you," I added as I moved over to shake Mulder's hand. Tara went back to Dana's side for one last coo over the baby.

"Kind of puts Fluky and everything else into perspective, doesn't it?" Mulder said, his eyes never leaving Dana and the baby as he shook my hand.

"Mulder, I have no idea what you're talking about, and I probably don't want to know," I replied. "But yeah, it does."

I couldn't help but gape in amazement as I realized which ship lay ahead of me. From the distinctive flaring bow to the sixteen-inch guns silhouetted against the Hawaiian sunrise, she looked every inch the concrete, visible symbol of our country's military and industrial supremacy. Submarines always have and always will be my first love, but there is something immensely reassuring about having a ship that can throw a shell the size of a Volkswagen on your side.

The OOD was going over a clipboard with a young petty officer as I came up the gangplank. "Permission to come aboard, sir," I saluted, noting first the stripes of a full Commander on his arm, and only then noting his face, the face of a man I had once called a friend, a man who had once called me friend, back before I fell in love with his wife.

Ray Flanagan looked back at me, his face expressionless, then returned my salute. "Permission granted, Lieutenant Commander Scully. Welcome aboard the _Iowa_."

We were three days from our rendezvous with the _Thomas Jefferson_ when a photograph of two naval ensigns linked arm in arm with an attractive young brunette was placed in front of me. Ray and I had huge grins on our faces and Lisa's head was thrown back in laughter as the camera caught her with her leg raised in an impromptu can-can step.

"We had a lot of fun back then, didn't we?" Ray asked musingly, looking out over the sternrail as he spoke.

"Yes, we did," I replied neutrally, unsure of how to react. We stood quietly for a while until I felt compelled to break the silence. "When I requested reassignment I was hoping that maybe the two of you would be able to salvage something. I mean-"

"She's married to an insurance salesman now. In Kansas, of all places." Ray shook his head ruefully and returned the picture to his pocket. "You weren't the cause, Bill," he added, turning to face me. "Just a symptom. We were too young. All of us were." He nodded to me and walked away.

I watched him go, my thoughts whirling. I had been mentally preparing myself for days to face his anger, his bitterness, his disdain, but this just left me feeling confused and very, very small.

"Welcome aboard the _Tommy J_, sir," the ensign yelled as she saluted, grabbing my bag as I stepped out of the helo. "Follow me." I clutched my cover to my head with one hand and held my briefcase with the other as we dashed across the heaving deck of the carrier, almost blinded by the driving rain and spray. Behind us, a party of ratings finished lashing down the helicopter and dashed for shelter. "The Admiral has requested your presence for dinner in his quarters at 1800, sir," she continued as soon as we had closed the hatch behind us. "I'm to show you to your quarters and then to the Admiral's at your convenience, sir."

I looked at my watch. "Well, it's 1730 now, so you'd better show me to my quarters, Ensign?" I let my voice trail off.

"Hastings, sir," she replied, the smile that broke out on her face looking much more natural on her cheerful features than the proper military stoicism she schooled her countenance into an instant later. "Follow me, sir," she repeated.

"Glad you could make it, Commander," Ruggin said, returning my salute as I stepped through the hatch. "This is the man I was telling you about, JT," he continued.

The other man returned my salute as well, "So you're the Admiral's Ops wizard. JT del Santos. Welcome aboard, Commander."

"Thank you, Captain," I replied. "Bill Scully. And may I just say you have some fine helo drivers on this ship, sir."

"Lieutenant Iliff is one of the best there is," del Santos answered. "I'll send her your compliments." del Santos paused for a moment. "I served under your father on the _Edwin Raynor,_" he continued. "He was a good officer. I was sorry to hear about his passing."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate that."

"We'll be ducking out of the trailing edge and meeting up with the Aussies at 0800," the Admiral said. "Briefing's at 0900. I'm looking forward to your presentation, Commander."

"Thank you, sir. With your permission, I'd like to stop by CIC and double-check a few things before then."

"Ensign Hastings will show you after dinner," del Santos replied as the steward entered.

"Dinner is served, Admiral."

"I think-" Hastings began hesitantly.

"The admiral didn't ask what you think, Ensign," del Santos spat. "Where will Li be in two days?"

"Here." Her finger stabbed down at the chart. "Sir." del Santos raised reproving eyebrows at the miniscule pause before the honorific.

"Why there, Ms. Hastings?" I asked quickly, playing my role of nice teacher to del Santos' nasty one. "There are several anchorages in the area. Any one of them would be more than adequate."

"Well, like you said, sir," Hastings began before I could catch her eye and give my head slight shake.

"Excuse me, Commander, but would you mind drinking a glass of water," del Santos sneered. "I'd like to see if the Ensign here can still manage to talk."

"Why that particular anchorage, Ms. Hastings?" I looked directly at del Santos and added neutrally, "I'm sure the admiral would like to hear your opinion," placing a slight but noticeable stress on the word your.

Hastings' eyes darted between del Santos and I. I could tell she suspected what we were doing. "He's going to want something sheltered and big enough to hold his ships, but close to where the new rigs will be going up," she stated confidently. "At the same time though, he's going to want something off the beaten path, with less chance of being seen by any unfriendly eyes." She stabbed at the map again with her finger. "This is the only place on this section of the coast that fits."

The admiral flicked a glance at del Santos and spoke. "Thank you for that cogent analysis, Miss Hastings." Hastings' mouth twitched and she blushed slightly as I nodded in approval. "Your opinion, Commander?" Ruggin continued.

I studied the chart, swaying slightly with the motion of the ship. We had ducked back inside the storm as soon as we had met up with the Australians and were letting Mother Nature and a few decidedly low-tech but effective tricks hide our exact position from prying eyes. "Ensign Hastings' deduction is the logical one," I said slowly. "I con-" I couldn't bring myself to finish. There was something else. Something- "No," I said, letting my finger drop to an inlet almost seventy-five miles closer. "He'll be here."

"The carrier would never make it over the rocks," Captain McKedree scoffed. "There's a reason nobody's ever dredged that harbor out, Commander."

I looked over at the burly Australian commanding the RAN contingent of our fleet. "Normally, that would be true, sir," I replied, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice, the excitement that always came when I knew I was on the right track. "But this," I waved my hand, indicating the immense storm surrounding us, "has pushed tide levels along the coast the highest they've been in over a century. He'll have just barely enough water under his keel to clear the entrance, but he'll have it."

"It's risky," McKedree rumbled. "Not to mention the shallowness of the bay itself, even with the high tides."

"He'd be willing to take that risk, sir." I paused for a moment. "Li Zemin has been one of the strongest, most public voices for the creation of an independent naval force for over a decade now." I pointed down at the chart again. "This will put him closer to the new rigs by almost a day over anyone else." I knew that everyone in the compartment understood what that could mean. A successful occupation of the nominally international waters where the rigs would go up would gain Li and his compatriots allies in Beijing. As long as the Chinese navy remained the People's Liberation Army Navy, it would remain the poor stepchild, behind the Army and the Air and Strategic Rocket Forces. As Wally Petersen had once cracked, even the oft-threatened invasion of Taiwan would be the Million-Man Swim. A navy is a nation's premier method for extending its power beyond its borders, and the creation of a People's Liberation Navy would signify a major change in Beijing's thinking to a more aggressive posture on the world stage. "He'll take the risk." I repeated firmly.

We debated and planned for the rest of the night, and two days later when the storm had passed and Admiral Li Zemin of the People's Liberation Army Navy emerged from the shallow bay he had taken shelter in he found an ANZUS Task Force in front of him, holding station twelve-and-a-half miles from the Chinese coast.

We did nothing after Li emerged, merely turned and steamed slowly through the disputed area on our way to the first port in our show-the-flag tour of Southeast Asia. We had shown Beijing the stick, now it was time for diplomats like my kid brother to offer them a carrot or two in exchange for not starting a war.

The diplomats met while we were on our tour, and a rather complicated profit sharing plan was hammered out between all the parties involved. No one was exactly happy with the final result, but nobody started shooting either.

"Sir, sir? Are you all right, sir?"

I shook my head as I held on to the hatch coaming and tried to will my churning stomach calm. "I'm fine, Gutierrez," I snapped. I saw the rating stiffen at my tone as I shoved off from the bulkhead and continued down the companionway.

I stopped by the MARS phone and pulled out my credit card, tapping my fingers impatiently against the wall as I waited for the operator to connect me. I'd woken up less than an hour ago with a sick feeling of dread roiling my stomach and a desperate need to hear Tara's voice.

An unfamiliar male voice came on the line. "Hello?"

"Who is this?" I demanded. In the background, I could hear the crackle of an official sounding radio, although I couldn't make out any words.

"This is Detective Ridout with the Annapolis City Police Department. Who is this?" he answered over the sound of a siren starting up and pulling away.

"Oh God." I slumped against the bulkhead. "My wife. My son. Are they-" I couldn't bring myself to finish.

"Mr. Scully?" Ridout replied. "They're alive Mr. Scully-"

"Thank God."

"Bill?" Dana's voice came on the line.

"Dana, what happened? Tara and Matthew, are they all right? The detective said they were alive, but are they all right?"

"Matthew's fine, they just locked him in a closet. Tara-" her voice broke. "Oh God Billy, I'm so sorry. I don't know what they gave her, but she reacted, badly."

I closed my eyes. "The baby?"

"I'm sorry," Dana repeated.

"Bill?" Mulder's voice came on the line. "I don't know what you need to do, compassionate leave or whatever it's called, but you need to be here."

Mom met me at the gate with Matthew by her side when my flight got into BWI. I'd gotten as far as Salt Lake City on military flights, then civilian air proved to be faster and more direct. Mathew launched himself into my arms as soon as he saw me and clung tightly, not saying a word.

"How is she?" I demanded.

Mom shook her head. "The same. She still hasn't woken up yet. Do we need to stop by the baggage claim?"

I indicated the carryon bag slung over my shoulder. "No, everything else is being sent. Which level are you on?"

"Lower," Mom replied. I headed for the elevators.

"Maybe the stairs would be better," Mom added with a significant glance at Matthew. I clenched my jaw tightly against the rage that bubbled up inside me as we headed for the stairs to the parking garage.

"From what I understand," the doctor told me as we stood outside Tara's door, "the drugs your wife were given normally act as a kind of truth serum, but when they interacted with the medication she usually takes, the results were," he paused for a moment, "unfortunate."

I snorted at his delicacy. "The result, Doctor, was one hell of an effective abortifactient," I snapped.

"How is she, Doctor Perronne?" I heard Dana's voice ask as she came up behind me.

"I'm afraid she still hasn't regained consciousness, Dr. Scully," Perronne replied.

"Get out," I growled.

"Billy-" Dana laid her hand on my arm.

I threw her hand off as I angrily whirled to face her. "Don't call me Billy," I snapped. "We're not kids anymore for God's sake. I trusted you, Dana," I continued. "You and Mulder, but especially you I trusted to watch them and keep them safe. Now Mattie's absolutely terrified of his own closet. God only knows if he'll ever have his mother again." I gave a sharp laugh. "But I guess when you go after the Truth," I spat, "you have to expect some collateral damage." The guilt on Dana's face was all the answer I needed. "Do whatever the hell you want, Dana. Go chase your little green men, I don't care. Just stay the hell away from my family."

"I- I never thought-" Dana began.

"Wasn't Missy enough?"

"You bastard," Dana hissed, fists clenched tight by her side. "Do you think I wanted this? Any of this?"

"Sometimes I wonder," I ground out. "I swear to God, Dana, sometimes I really do." I spun on my heel, my own fists clenching, and strode into Tara's room, shutting the door behind me. Only the thought that the noise would bother Tara kept me from slamming the door in Dana's face.

I sat on the edge of the bed and took Tara's hand in mine. "It's me, honeybun. Sugar pie." Tara despised pet names as much as I did, and would usually respond by rolling her eyes or making a sarcastic request for a shot of insulin. This time she just laid there, her face almost as pale as the sheet she was lying on.

I brought her hand to my lips. "Come on, Tare," I said as the tears ran down my cheeks. "Where else am I going to find someone to kick my ass at Scrabble on a regular basis?" The only reply was the soft, steady beep of the heart monitor.

END PART II

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Comments? Questions? Opinions? [RFrankeUS@yahoo.com][1]

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